On the marble mantelpiece in the living room of a home in a suburb of Pittsburgh sits a framed black and white snapshot of Nate Johnson and five other boy soldiers standing in front of a hootch. The boys are wearing jungle fatigues, the sleeves neatly rolled up, all of them grinning, standing with their arms along each others' shoulders. A little skinny dog is barking at the photographer. The snapshot was taken in a village in South Vietnam in 1966...
Today was Nate Johnson's birthday. He was fifty years old. The last of the guests said good night and Tommy, Nate's eight-year-old son, got out of the in-ground swimming pool and went inside to shower and change. Nate went inside and up the stairs and stood listening at the door of his four-year-old daughter's room. He went in and gently closed the door behind him and stood in the fading daylight coming from the window and watched his daughter sleeping. Nate and his wife Cory Henderson had started their family late in life and Nate still found fatherhood wonderful. The little girl woke up and turned over toward him.
"I'm not 'sleep."
"How do you feel?"
"Okay."
"Your head's much cooler."
She felt her own forehead. "I know."
"Did the party keep you awake?"
"I woke up when you came in."
He sat on the bed and noticed how she made just enough room for him.
"I was sleepy."
"It's probably the medicine. Do you want anything?"
"No thank you."
"Maybe something to eat or drink?"
She began to yawn, but then remembered to cover her mouth. "I'm still sleepy."
"Well, now, let me see. How about some ice cream? You'd like some ice cream, wouldn't you?"
She shook her head no.
"No ice cream?"
"May I have some ice cream tomorrow if I clean up my room and Mommy doesn't have to tell me?"
"That's a great idea. I'll let your mother know."
"Happy birthday, Daddy."
He bent down to kiss her cheek. She turned her face away.
"You'll get my germs."
"I don't think so."
"You'll get my germs and you'll be sick, too."
A warm breeze made the curtains flutter out long. He moved his fingers through her hair. Even in the fading light he could see her features clearly. Outside her door, he leaned back against the wall and put his hands deep in the pockets of his very comfortable jeans, and then he closed his eyes. After a moment he went to find his wife. She was outside.
He and Cory sat side by side on a wooden bench at the picnic table under the rippling fringe of the still opened lawn umbrella in the back lawn in the shadowy night.
Cory said, "Are you all right?"
He turned his face to her. "I'm fine. Why?"
"You've been preoccupied all day."
Crickets called. The wind blew through the leaves of the trees. Out beyond the front lawn a car rubbered past going much too fast.
He said, "We've done all right."
"I think so."
"The kids, our careers, the neighborhood, this place and our friends."
"I certainly think we have."
"Do you remember the very first apartment we ever had?"
"In South Oakland?"
"Before that. I was just back from 'Nam and for the longest time the only job you could get was waitressing."
She laughed. "That walk-in closet on Miller Street. 249 Miller Street."
"And all your hemlines were way up to here and my hair came down past my shoulders."
They sat in silence not touching each other.
She said, "There's only one alternative to growing old."
"Oh, I know," he said. "Believe you me I know."
She looked at him quickly. "Honey?"
"No," he said, patting her thigh. "Don't you worry."
****************************************
This story was published in 2006 by the online journal Word Riot.
Nice, letting the reader find his own path around the words not said and the meanings not disclosed.
At the end, it is understood, no more words needed.
A great piece.
Georg
Great story in my book. I like the ending very much. This story seems 'well-balanced' and reflects that 'slice of life'/Americana. Thanks for posting it here.
Her comment "there's only one alternative to growing old" seemed lighthearted, but her reaction to his answer was anything but. I had to go back and read this again after reading that ending. Whatever Nate's mental state in the past, throughout the story he seems content, even kind of proud. It seems he is at peace in the end. Good story.
You've left me wondering about many things such as what happened to his military buddies? Did they survive? Were any of those friends at the party? What kinds of friends does he have now? Is he suffering from flashbacks? Why did his wife choose to keep her maiden name? Is she fiercely independent and he's man enough to accept and appreciate that? And so many more questions! I love a story that leaves me thinking!!
I like it this tale about a baby boomer made good! I found the ending ambiguous, which made me re-read it! Also, excuse my ignorance - but today's fifty year old would have been too young for Vietnam?
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